


Mistaken

by Eternallost



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Angst and Romance, Bars and Pubs, Boss/Employee Relationship, Cars, Cunnilingus, Diners, Drunken Kissing, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fantasizing, Fights, Fluff, Gorgons (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Illusions, Masturbation, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Morning Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Mystery, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Possession, Romantic Comedy, Secret Crush, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Tricksters, Twins, secret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternallost/pseuds/Eternallost
Summary: You have a crush on one Stan but he believes your crush is on the other. Things get crazy when you start to work at the Mystery Shack.
Relationships: Ford Pines/Reader, Stan Pines/Reader
Comments: 161
Kudos: 300





	1. Chapter 1

Stan looked up from your resume as he set his coffee on the kitchen table, leaving a ring. “You worked at Lazy Susan’s.” He sloppily wiped his mouth. “What the hell makes you want to start here? I pay halfa what you made in tips.”

You noticed his subtle appraisal. _Was he sizing you up as a worker or-_

“That’s fine,” you smiled.

What Stan may not have remembered was all the times you’d served him; drunk during the night shift. Maybe it was the booze. Maybe it was how you wore your hair up. Or maybe, _you feared_ , you weren’t that memorable to him?

* * *

The diner was a 24-hour thing at one time. The college students needed somewhere to grab a waffle after indulging too much, and the lumberjacks needed an early start. He was a funny drunk. Flirtatious in a way that made you believe he thought nothing would ever come of it. Either his self-confidence was sky high or rock bottom. He’d given you a twirl once or twice, complimenting the way you could dance with a plate in one hand. The old man had moves, causing you to pause and wonder if he ever put them to use.

One night the college customers got a little rowdy. Their type of flirting was not the carefree wordplay of Stan. Or the casual invitation to dance. It was more the incel form of ‘ _Hey, I’m a man and I deserve this. Now and at my leisure.’_

Stan walked in from who knew where, reeking of cigars and whiskey. His thick chain clanked as his heavy fist met the table, effectively separating you from the fuck boys. “ **We’re closed**!” He slurred.

The frat boys looked back in terror and confusion.

“What? Are you the owner or something?” A snarky one pipped up.

Stan leaned forward, sneering, “ _Want me to **own** your ass?_ Why don’t we step outside?” He must have kept in shape all those years. His arms were intimidating.

“You’re crazy, old man.” They filed out past him.

“Oh, and _____________,” the last one paused to address you.

“ **Hey** , fuck face,” Stan grabbed his collar, “The lady don’t want to talk to you. Not now. Not ever. _Get the fuck out_.”

The last one scampered indignantly out the door. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

You smiled. “You say fuck a lot.”

“Fuck,” he laughed along, “I guess I do.”

* * *

You wanted to know more about the man. To see him sober, day to day. Maybe your crush had grown into a little more. Lazy Susan was the one who tipped you off about the Mystery Shack months later. She understood when you wanted a change of pace. This time of year wasn’t as busy, and there were less hours to be had. She hugged you. You’d always be welcomed back, if you chose.

“Fine, huh?” Stan took another sip. “What’s your angle?”

“No angle,” you shook your head.

“You don’t want cash? What- Got a grudge against tourists?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well, the only other benefit of the place is me,” Stan toyed.

Your stomach leapt as you covered with a smile.

“Or my twin brother.”

“Twin?” You burst. Could it be that you’d seen his twin at the diner? No, he would have to dress the same. Smell the same. His name would have to be Stan…

“Yeah. Stanford.”

You looked down, mind reeling. _Were you the one who was mistaken? How identical were they?_

“Woah, looking kinda pale, there.” Stan (if his name was Stan) grabbed your hand. “You okay? You know him or something?”

“Is he- Is he here? Mind if I see him?”

“Er, yeah. Sure.” He sat up straighter, turning to yell up the stairs, “Hey, Ford, yer girlfriend’s here to see ya!”

All the blood rushed to your face.

“Stanley, as I’ve already told you, the only love I currently have is science. Not that you’re one to talk, with-”

Stanford turned the corner to see your absolutely flustered face. This was not the Stan you had sought. That Stan was snickering at the kitchen table.

“Oh, hello.” Ford greeted you. “Stanley, what are you doing to this poor girl?”

“I dunno,” Stan shrugged, “she got all freaked out when I said your name. Why?” He leaned forward, “What did _you_ do?”

Ford’s brow’s furrowed. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”

You covered your mouth. Uncovered it. “No, no. I’m sorry, it was a case of mistaken identity.” You put out your hand. “I’m _____________.”

“Nice to meet you, ____________.” His six fingers gripped you warmly. “You must have had some experience with a Stanford.”

You swallowed. “Something like that.”

“Well I hope my brother and I can show you not all Stans are bad. You’re here for the open position, correct?”

“Right,” you nodded.

“If I’m a good judge of character, and I like to think that I am, I’d offer you the job right away.” He turned to his brother. “What do you say, Stanley?”

**_Stanley._ **

“Eh. I haven’t figured her angle yet.”

“Stanley! Not everyone has an angle. Sometimes I think you spent too much time with mother.”

“Oh, she’s got one.” He glanced your way, eyes shining. “Haven’t you, toots? Quit one job for another that pays less, more out of the way?”

Stanford looked more curiously at you now. “I guess my brother _does_ have a point.”

“Well,” you folded your hands, “that's why it’s called the Mystery Shack, isn’t it?”

The brothers looked to each other silently, then erupted in laughter.

Stan stuck out his hand, a smarmy grin on his face. “You start Monday.”


	2. Chapter 2

Stan remembered you from the diner. Sure he was a drinker, but he wasn’t a drunk. Hadn’t blacked out in years. He recalled the nights dancing. The way the lights seemed to blur and shine around you. He wasn’t sure you remembered those nights, except for the sleaze bags. Halfa the reason he’d started frequenting the diner was because he noticed your discomfort around certain members of the evening crowd. The same ones that had bothered Wendy at the Shack.

Of course they swarmed. You were beautiful. You could have your pick of the liter. He just wanted it to be on your terms. Call him old fashioned. What started out as a whim, or a grudge against youth, turned into reluctant butterflies. He was falling for you. Which made him feel like one of those sleaze bags he was trying to protect you against. A hypocrite. So, he did what he always did. He made a lasting impression on the crowd- and he left. That didn’t mean that he forgot about you. Hell, some nights he woke up hard from a dream about you in that waitress uniform bent over a table, syrup sticking to your breasts, spilling onto the floor. He wondered if you ever thought about him. Doubted it; being the old guy that he was. But apparently you had a thing for older guys. And his twin brother.

God knows where you two met. Maybe one night Ford was up late working on a project and needed some protein. Maybe he wooed you with words (some sappy poetry or something). The way that he never could. Leave it to Ford to forget the hottest woman in town. When you first showed up for an interview, Stan’s heart fibrillated because he thought you were there for him. He thought he was going to have to bend you over his own kitchen table and add his sugar to the mix. He’d almost gotten it out of you too, that reason of yours. You could keep your secrets. You deserved happiness. After inadvertently ruining his brother’s, the guy deserved all the happiness he could get. Stan just wasn’t sure he could put his heart into being a matchmaker. _Too bad it was during the school year and Mabel wasn’t around to do the job._

* * *

You showed up early to make a good impression. Besides, the longer you had with Stan the better. Maybe you should get to know Ford, too. They were twins after all. You hoped you hadn’t looked like too much of an idiot gawking at two near identical silver foxes. Same faces- different bodies, different minds. Ford seemed like he had a lot on his mind. Which was great and all, but you didn’t think he could confidently guide you with his hands and hips, make a sarcastic quip in that gruff voice near your ear. Flip you over and-

“Yer early.” Stan stood in the open doorway, tank, gold chain, and boxers.

You weren’t sure how loudly you inhaled.

“Oh, right…” He stepped aside and came back with an open black jacket and matching pants on. “I ain’t used to having company around. Better?”

The man didn’t show an ounce of embarrassment. Not that he had anything to be embarrassed about. Those arms were thicker than your legs. You knew he could pick you up. Maybe one handed. What was it about this guy that kept your mind in the gutter?

You coughed. Then recovered. “Yeah.” You stood there for a moment smiling stupidly at him. The smile spread on his face and a question came to his eyes, nearly forming on his lips.

“Ah, ____________!” Ford came up with some kind of creature in a jar. “Is it Monday already?”

“Unfortunately,” you joked.

“Er, yeah, Ford here was just going to show you our creature collection.” His teeth came together. “Right Ford?”

Ford’s brows came down. His eyes shifted. “Actually, I was just going to-“

“Walk her towards the exhibit!” Stan’s hand encompassed your shoulder blades, pushing you and his brother. You distractedly felt his heat through your body. Girl, you needed to get laid. It had been way too long if just a touch was doing this to you.

“I need to go take care of something in the kitchen; just this once Fordsy, all right?”

“A- All right,” Ford looked back confusedly.

You both watched Stan exit the room without a glance back. Then, you looked at each other. “Must need his morning coffee,” you shrugged uncomfortably.

* * *

Stan caught his breath, back cooling against the refrigerator. _Why did you have to be so small in his hands? **Fuck!**_ He closed his eyes tightly, trying to forget. He wanted to punch something. _Ford deserves this,_ he repeated, _Ford deserves this._ He’d never had a chick hit on him; in their own dimension, anyway. Stan had plenty of women in all kinds of places. He’d seen his share of the world. He’d lived his life and had his fun... But, dammit, _none of them were you_. He'd felt something special forming at the diner. He'd thought you had too. _Wishful thinking_. He slammed his fist against the fridge behind him. After all these years devoted to finding his brother... Why didn’t the universe think he deserved some happiness, too?


	3. Chapter 3

Ford was going to analyze the specimen in this lab, that was until Stanley had redirected him. He seemed to be playing matchmaker. He’d always passed women off onto Ford which he deemed inadequate (high maintenance or not his taste). You were attractive and eloquent. Younger. The mystery perplexed him- _Why wasn’t he interested?_

“Are you a researcher?” You questioned.

Your fascination with the captured creature threw him of guard. “Why, yes. The strange and unusual. Are you interested in such things?”

“Well, I grew up in Gravity Falls, so I would say so. Even if the mayor’s motto is, ‘ _Never Mind All That._ ’” You laughed. How could you not mind a floating eyeball?

“Grew up in Gravity Falls?” Ford grabbed a pen and clicked it a few times before taking a journal out of his pocket. “Mind if I interview you on your sightings?”

“Sure,” you shrugged, “I don’t mind. But you should let the Brownie go before you do. Maybe offer her some cream or porridge in reconciliation.”

He looked down at the glass jar. “A Brownie?” He stroked his stubble in regard. “I’ve done research on their kind and I had an inkling. I’ve never seen one in real life before.” He walked over to the coffee station in the gift shop and picked up a creamer packet. He unscrewed the jar lid to address the fairy. “Will this do?”

She grasped the packet, hmphed, and flew out the open window.

“You know, these creatures are more human than you think.”

“Over all these years… I’m beginning to realize that.”

* * *

Stan leaned against the doorframe, blowing on his cooling coffee. Well, you two were hitting it off. It felt like indigestion watching you animatedly describe the weird shit that went on around town. Ford had a smile on his face for the first time since the kids left on the bus. He cleared his throat.

“Oh!” You stood to address the man you were waiting to see. “Stan, your brother has so many stories! You two have seen so much, been through a lot. More than I have.”

“Great. So you know my life story.” Stan spoke, face flat.

“Thank you, Stanley.” Ford placed his six fingers lightly on your shoulder. Gentle, encompassing. You guessed he was the type who would hesitate; examine and prod his lover for the best outcome. Nothing like the carnal confidence of Stan’s guiding hand. _Which was it- Slow or fast?_ You shook your head to clear your thoughts. “For introducing me to _____________.”

“Perfect.” Stan mumbled walking over to the register to count the cash for the day. “Now scram, I’ve got to show her the ropes.”

Ford looked to his brother confusedly, then back to you. “I’m sorry, ____________. Sometimes my brother can be a grump in the morning. We’ll continue this conversation later.”

“Grump?” Stan slammed the register drawer closed, “I ain’t no grump!”

Ford walked over to the vending machine and punched in the code to move it aside.

“I’m just trying to run a business here! We can’t all be funded by government money.”

Ford waved with a smile. You waved in response as the vending machine returned to its rightful place.

“First rule of working at the Mystery Shack,” Stan pipped up.

You gave him your full attention.

His face was stern, “No employee relationships. That includes anyone living or working on premises.”

You blinked, ready to retort, knowing that your words would give you away to your secret crush.

He lifted an eyebrow. “Got it?”

You looked down and nodded.

"Good,” he replied, seemingly happier.

You stood in thought for a second. No. You weren’t giving up. You hadn’t come all this way for nothing. Just because you couldn’t date the man didn’t mean you couldn’t fool around a little. Besides, maybe you could make him rethink the policy.

“Oh no,” you gasped.

"What?”

“This button on the register, it’s stuck.”

“Where?” Stan eyed the 80s machine, which likely had many stuck keys before. Something told you he’d fix it with duct tape before he replaced it. It was kind of cute.

"Here,” you placed your hand atop his, prompting him towards the keys. His eyes widened briefly, surveying from your wrist to your shoulder to your neck. You pressed his index finger onto the cash button which opened the register with a satisfying _**cha-ching.** _“Wow! You fixed it. You must have magic hands.” You gave a smile, maybe you were laying it on a little thick.

He slowly stepped back. “Uh huh.” He crossed his arms, eyes shining. “I’ll ask you again, sugar. What’s your angle?”

 _Crap. Maybe he didn’t want to change the rules. Maybe you weren’t as alluring as you thought you were._ “No angle,” you lied.

"I see,” he stalled. “Well, you need one to work here.”

"Why’s that?”

He leaned back on the counter, demonstrating the definition of his bicep and a peek of chest hair from his unbuttoned shirt. “Tourists want to be entertained.” He flipped his eyepatch down. “Why do you think I’m in this getup?”

"I dunno,” you tapped your chin. “You have a thing for pirates?”

He gave a gravelly laugh, then leaned slightly to whisper in your ear, “Mystery.” He pulled back to look at your eyes. You hoped you weren’t blushing. “Suspense. How’d you lose an eye? Why do you have a cane? What kind of tie is that? Keeps ‘em guessing. Keeps ‘em coming back for more.”

Hell yeah, it did.

"Can’t get by on good looks alone.”

Did he mean you? Okay, now you were blushing.

"What’s your story, kid?”

You blinked up at him, brain fuzzy. “I want to be a pirate,” fell stupidly from your lips.

"Aha!” He struck his hands together in inspiration. “You’re the fearsome Captain of Crater Lake.” He picked a tricornered hat from the shelves and set it atop your head.

"Do lakes have pirates?”

"They do now!” He grinned.

You couldn’t help but smile back. This was already more fun than the diner.


	4. Chapter 4

“Where’s your ship?” A chubby cheeked kid looked up at you.

“It be at the bottom of Crater Lake!” You encouraged.

He gasped gleefully.

His brother barged in, “There aren’t any pirates on Crater Lake, doofus.”

“Not since she started working here with me!” Stan corrected as he herded the boys, “Now c’mon. We’ve got to go look at the Jackalope- only one in town! A measly 5 bucks to see it!” He gave you a wink.

You smiled in relief and returned to stocking shelves. When you turned around, another guy was walking your way. “Hi Ford.”

He stood back and looked at your hat. “Stanley made you wear that, didn’t he?”

You shrugged, “Kinda.”

He reached forward hesitantly, “May I?”

“Um, yeah.”

He gently took your hat and placed it on the table. “You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I know he can get caught up in the moment.”

“Thanks Ford.” That was actually pretty sweet.

“Now for the reason I’m here, I need your help with an experiment. Normally I would ask Dipper, but he’s not around. And Soos is, well… not up to the task.”

You had met the handyman earlier. Seemed like a nice guy. Loyal. Enthusiastic. Accident prone. He had taken care of the shack when Stan and Ford sailed around the world. A journey you’d have to ask about.

“I would like to, but I have to run the register.”

“We could get Soos to take over.” Ford encouraged. “I could really use your input.”

“But Stan-”

“Will understand. I know him, trust me.”

You looked back. If it was quick, he wouldn’t even notice you were gone. “All right. Only for a second.”

Ford affirmed, “Just a second.”

* * *

Stan approached the register after the tour group. He looked his employee over. This one was not as easy on the eyes. “Soos, why are you wearing that hat?”

“Captain left it behind, along with a map to her treasure.” He held up a sticky note.

“Gimme that,” Stan snatched it.

> Stan,
> 
> Helping Ford with an experiment. Be right back.
> 
> -X

Stan crumpled it, feeling his heart drop. What, was his brother into stealing now? _That was his MO!_ He breathed out through his nose. C’mon, Stan. You gave him the okay; if this is what they both want, then it’s what they want. _Although, he **had** selfishly thrown in that rule to buy him some time to get over you._ Then you had to go and touch his arm like that!

Soos looked back and forth. He could sense the tension rising. "Um, Mister Pines?"

“Scram Soos.”

“You got it, dude!” He saluted and took off.

He had a renegade employee to find.

* * *

“And that’s when I learned about the other type of mermaid.”

“Fish head and human legs. Who would have thought?”

The laboratory door kicked open with a bang.

 _“Stanley!”_ Ford admonished. “There’s sensitive equipment!”

 _“Oh yeah?!”_ He grumbled. “Is my _employee_ on your equipment list?” He looked to you. “You! Get your ass upstairs, in my office.” He thumbed. **“Now!”**

Your worst fear had come true. _It was odd that some primal part of you found it thrilling._ You swiftly followed his orders.

His brother was taken aback. “Stanley, it was my idea. Not hers. We got Soos to cover for her, I’ve done this with Wendy several times when I’m in a pinch.”

“Well she’s not Wendy, now, is she? And she sure as hell ain’t Soos!”

Ford blinked, examining the words both said and unsaid. “All right. You’re right.” He looked up in acknowledgement. “Just go easy on her.”

“Go easy on her?” Stan squinted. “Since when do you care?”

Ford shrugged. “Maybe you better ask yourself.”

Stan felt a stabbing in his heart. His brother was onto him. Was he that obvious? _No._ Maybe he was just testing him. “I’m just saying. I’ve got employees for a reason. Unless you want ‘em on your payroll, find yer own.”

Ford nodded. “Fair enough.”

* * *

The door to the small office room slammed. You sat straighter in your wooden chair, interrogation style, across the table from another seat. Stan preferred to stand. “What were you doing with my brother when I hired you to run a register?” His voice was dangerously low. You could tell he’d shaken people down before. Maybe even took pride in it. _Why was this hot right now?_

“He asked me to,” you found your breath. “I-”

“He did? And what if he asked you to suck his dick?”

Your hand covered your mouth, incredulously searching his eyes.

He continued to stare you down. _Was he serious?_ He was serious.

“I would say no.”

“ _Oh!_ So you do know the word.” He placed a heavy hand on the table, causing it to shake. “ **Use it.** ”

“You’re right. I will.” _But- if Stan asked you to suck his dick, that’d be a different story._

“Good.” He straightened. “Now. How would you like to be punished?”

Your face flushed. “I-” _Was this really happening?_ “You mean like- physically?”

Stan blinked. “I was talking working after hours or on weekends. No pay.”

You both looked at each other as the heat rose and the hum of the air kicked on.

“After hours!” You stood so fast that your chair fell over. You straightened it. "...If that's okay."

He continued to stay seated. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Mercifully, you said your goodbyes in a daze and left.

* * *

As soon as the door clicked closed, Stan twisted the lock. **Fuck,** he was hard. He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair in contemplation. When you’d mentioned physicality, he’d nearly lost it. Thoughts of spanking you, tying you up, all the dirty little punishments he could give you- and you’d ask for it. _Beg for it._

It had been a while. He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his pants and freeing himself from his boxers. He knew it wouldn’t take long. He could be quick if he wanted to. A guilty thrill filled him as he ran a palm over himself to thoughts of you taking his cock. He wondered what you looked like under those clothes. How you’d accommodate him. What kinda noises you’d make underneath him. His breath came shorter as he imagined. Pumping harder. Like that. Just. like. that. He came, leaning on the table for support as his high diminished and the clarity of what he’d done came seeping in.

You were trouble. He knew that. Too bad Stan Pines never learned how to stay away.


	5. Chapter 5

Ford usually let his mind wander when he was working with his hands. This night in his laboratory was no different. _Was Stanley interested in you?_ He seemed quite possessive of someone he claimed to be only an employee. The last time he’d seen Stanley so worked up was when Carla had cheated. To be honest, he hadn’t been nearby when this happened. Ford was attending Backupsmore- still on the outs with his brother over ruining his experiment, and the dreams of his future. He was knee deep in textbooks when his dorm room got the call.

Ford picked up the receiver. He took a breath to say hello.

“ _She fucked that damn hippie! **I knew it!**_ All this time… All this time meant **_nothing!_** ”

“…Stanley?”

“Yeah…” He took a breath. “Yeah it’s me.”

Ford stood from his chair and looked out the window. It was pitch black. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

“Drove his car into a ravine. _If you call that a car!_ ” His voice faded into the distance. “ _ **How do you like them apples Downe?!**_ ”

“You wrecked his car?”

“ **Hey!** _She ruined me first!_ ” Choked sounds.

“Stanley,” Ford readjusted his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “You know I’m a thousand miles from where you are, or I would pick you up. You should go home.”

The wind blew over the phone. The emptiness didn’t sound like New Jersey. _Where was he now?_

“…Would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Would you still pick me up?”

Ford felt anger waring with compassion. Forgiveness not yet on the horizon. “Maybe.”

“I see.” Stan took a breath. “Good luck at school, bro. Don't worry about me. I’ll figure it out. I always have.”

“...Good luck, Stanley.”

The next time they spoke was Ford’s invitation to the shack. He wondered how many other women broke his brother’s heart. _Was he protecting himself? Or was it that you weren’t interested in him in return?_ He would have to test his hypothesis.

* * *

In the evening hours, Ford climbed the stairs to make dinner. When his door moved aside, he hadn’t expected to see your face. With your hair up like that he could see your neck, your carotid artery pumping to the capillaries in your face. “Late night?” A couple of PhD’s never improved his interactions with the fairer sex.

“Yeah, I’m about done now.” You finished wiping the counter. “I haven’t seen Stan today- have you?”

“No, no.” Ford was awkward. “Today is his… side business.”

“Side business?” You squinted.

“Would you care for some dinner?” He avoided your questioning.

You’d have to circle back to that one. “Well…”

“I know a few good recipes. Even from other dimensions.”

Your mouth moved in surprise. “You can cook?”

“It’s not much different than chemistry. In fact, I’d say cooking is a science, if not an art.”

You smiled. Maybe if you stayed longer, you’d be able to welcome Stan home. And having a handsome guy cook you a meal? Well, you couldn’t say you had better plans for the evening.

“Other dimensions?” You smiled. “How could a girl say no?”

* * *

“The odds of being born with 11 fingers and toes? 1 in 500. This condition, by the way, is known as polydactyly.”

You were on the subject of what got him into the weird on-goings of Gravity Falls as he washed dishes and you dried. You admired the way his fingers moved over the porcelain plates. His wiry muscles surprised you when he rolled up his sleeves: A different type of strength than his brother. Different experiences. The boom box was softly playing an old-timey station.

“Dinner was lovely, by the way, thank you. I never knew eggs could taste like that!”

“You’d be surprised at how many beings lay eggs in other dimensions.”

“I’m sure I would.” You nodded. “You know, Ford- you’re fascinating. If you hadn’t told me you’re from New Jersey; I might have thought you were a wise old creature from the forest.”

“Maybe I’ve come to be,” he smiled.

You laughed.

A song came on that you recognized from the diner. You looked to him. “Do you dance?”

“No, I… I haven’t found it pertinent to survival.”

“What?” You scoffed. “I mean, TV shows aren’t pertinent to survival, but you enjoy them anyway, right?”

He stared blankly.

“Wrong question. Come on, I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.”

“Oh- okay.”

You grasped his hand, feeling his palm perspiring in yours. His extra finger rested on your wrist. _He was shy, how cute._ You prompted one hand to your upper back, the other holding yours loosely as you rested your hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to teach you the basic swing steps, when you feel comfortable you can lead if you like. _Rock step, triple step, triple step_ …”

Ford fumbled, getting used to the rhythm. “I’m sorry about that, I’m not very good.”

“Don’t worry, part of the fun is learning!”

He twirled you a few times, a move he was confident in. It was sweet. When tired, he took a seat with coffee at the kitchen table. Your cup sat steaming as you continued to dance alone.

A new song came on. “Your brother used to love this one.” You hummed as you danced.

Ford stalled with the mug in his hand, lowering it before drinking. “So, you did know him.”

You blinked. _Should you tell him? Did it matter?_ “Oh I…”

“How long?”

The door slammed open, interrupting your thoughts. “Daddy’s home!”

You both looked Stan in a leather jacket in the doorway. Again, he smelled of smoke and liquor.

“Stan,” you began.

“I love this song!” He swept you up in his arms, leading a dance like he was walking. You giggled as his fancy footwork made the room spin. This. This was what you were missing. As he brought you in, you could see Ford’s worried eyes over his shoulder. When he spun you out, the world faded away.


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey, _________, I got a job for you today.”

“That _is_ why I’m here.”

“You’ve got a smart mouth.” He eyed your lips with a grin, “Suits you.”

You smiled. “All right. What’s the job?”

“See those candies with expiration dates on them? I need you to cover them with price stickers.”

You picked one up. “Says they’re past expiration.”

He waved his eight-ball cane, “Exactly!”

“Isn’t that a crime?”

“I ate one earlier, still good. It’s those expiration dates that are a crime!”

You laughed. “Stan, where do you come up with this stuff? Seems like you’ve always got a scam to keep the money flowing. _I love it_.”

“Love?”

“Yeah,” you fumbled. “Like last week, you came up with scam texts instead of scam calls. Where do you get the ideas?”

“Listen kid,” he leaned against the counter, “I wasn’t always flush with cash. Heck,” he tossed his head back, “I ain’t even flush with it now.” He looked at you, in all seriousness. “I ain’t no sugar daddy, if that’s what yer after.”

“Still trying to find my angle?”

He shrugged and popped a candy into his mouth.

“I’m not looking for a sugar daddy.” You busied yourself with stock. “I was just curious about your story.”

His voice was far, “Even if it ain’t a happy one?”

“Whatever kind of story it may be.”

He took a breath in the early morning light. _Things wouldn’t be busy for a while._

“I got kicked out after high school. The only things I had were my car, a duffel bag, and the clothes on my back.”

“ _Why?_ What happened?”

“I fucked up Ford’s experiment and a chance at ivy league. Family blamed me. Disowned me.” He looked up at you from determined eyes. “It might have been my fault- but I swear, it wasn’t on purpose! Not on purpose.”

“I believe you.”

He looked at his cane. “Ford never did. My mom or dad certainly didn’t. They only wanted one son, that’s why they named us both Stan. I think they decided early on which kid they wanted it to be. That’s why it wasn’t a major loss when I disappeared and wound up dead.”

_**“Dead?!”** _

He laughed, “You’re getting ahead of yourself, sweetheart.”

Your heart thumped. “You’re not undead, are you Stan?” You had a fling with a vampire once. Not your cup of tea- too cold and bony.

“Go ahead,” he titled his head to the side, “go for the jugular.”

Your hand shook a little as you ran your finger over the peppery stubble that went from chin to throat. His blood was warm under your hand, beating in time with the clock. You didn’t notice you were staring at his lips until they quirked in a cocky smile and you looked up to his eyes.

“See?” His voice rumbled as his fingers came up over your hand, “Still kicking.”

“Yeah,” you followed his hand over yours as he placed them on the counter.

“Where was I?”

You were honestly as lost as he was.

He looked away, his hand still on yours. “I became a salesman.”

“You’ve got a knack for that.”

“It’s all I’ve ever been good for.” He laughed, “Being no good. I had to come up with my own shit to sell, and since I only had the lunch money I’d saved, my wares… well… I’d beware of them. I wouldn’t sell them to you nowadays.”

“I’d still buy them.”

“Even if they fell apart?”

“Yep.”

“Stained your clothes?”

“Sure.”

“Gave you rashes?”

“ _Well…_ ”

His smile grew. “Excuse me miss, could I interest you in some Stanco bandages?”

“Do they give you rashes?”

He shook his head, “They won’t give you rashes.”

“I’m guessing they’ll give you rashes.”

He laughed. “You’d be right. I always thought I was a good liar. But I never believed my own lies.” He looked away. “I’ve been so many people throughout my life. Heck, I was my brother for most of it.”

"Stan," you held his hand tighter, “are you yourself now?”

He looked into your worried eyes. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I’m me. Whoever that is.”

“Will you promise me one thing?”

“Sure, toots.” He leaned towards you, “But what’s in it for me?”

“Stanley!” You were serious.

He sat straighter, a light blush at his cheeks. “All right… _Geez._ Only one who calls me that is my brother.” He looked to you, “What’s so important?”

“Can you promise that you won’t lie to me? I just… couldn’t take it. Not from you.”

He looked from your entwined hands to your face. “Sure, kid… I promise."

* * *

Ford was writing field notes outside when he heard your footfalls behind him.

“What are your feelings on Stan?”

He turned and stood, “Are you by chance telepathic?”

“No. I just heard his side of the story and I’m a bit- miffed- at you.”

Ford smiled and shook his head. “I guess you would be.”

“Did you ever say _thank you_?”

“About the same time he said _sorry_.”

You both stood staring at one another in the clearing surrounded by towering cypress and sequoia. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “You’re both so stubborn.”

“Twins, I suppose.”

“Is he happy now?”

“He doesn’t complain. Then again, he never did, really.”

“I see.” You paused and turned, “Are **you** happy, Ford?”

“...Pardon?”

“Well, I mean, I heard you went through some rough times in other dimensions and with Bi-“

Ford’s six fingers slapped over your mouth before you could finish your sentence.

“Apologies, ____________.” He was stronger than you gave him credit for. Quicker. He held you fast with his other hand. “I can’t let you say his name. You’ll see the statue is right over there, and I can’t take any chances at him regaining power. Do I have your word?”

You nodded.

“Thank you,” he let you go, and your fingers trailed over your mouth at the tingling feeling. “See? You’ll find I’m fairly capable of saying it.”

You wanted to laugh but it wouldn’t come. You looked at the stone structure. “I thought he was gone… Dead.”

“Essentially, yes. Something is tying his likeness to this world and I’m trying to figure out what.”

“Are we… _Are we safe?_ ”

“Don’t be scared, __________.” He wrapped up his writing and placed his book in his satchel. “With the Pines twins you’re in the best hands in Gravity Falls.”

You didn’t doubt that.

“I need to know that you won’t tell Stan what you’ve seen here today. He nearly lost his mind in the fight... I can’t risk losing him again.”

“Ford…" You breathed, "I don’t know if I could keep this from him.”

“It’s for his safety as well as your own.” Ford placed his hands on your shoulders. “Will you promise me?“

“I…” you looked to the concern in his eyes. This was for the best. For Stan. For the town. “Promise.”

Ford nodded in approval.

Your stomach shrank in hypocrisy as you returned to the shack.


	7. Chapter 7

Stan took a seat on the porch couch to the sight of you returning from the forest with his brother. He knew he had given some mixed signals about his interest in you- to give you a chance to figure things out- but he was finding it hard as hell to give you up. After the talk you’d had that morning, your hand in his, he was beginning to think you liked him too. Even worse, he was beginning to trust you. And that, for Stan Pines, was scary. He didn’t trust easy. Even his own family had let him down. After Carla… He’d never wanted to be a sap again.

He waited with a drink in hand as you walked up. “What you been up to?” The casual question became a gathering storm as you exchanged glances with his brother.

“I was just covering my findings in the woods while ___________ berated me about how bad of a twin I am. Isn’t that right?”

“True,” you nodded. Well, it was.

“Serves you right,” Stan took a swig. Your face was off, something didn’t feel right. “___________, I saw you got dropped off today, want me to give you a ride home? I just fixed the engine in the Camaro- wanna be the first to give it a spin?” He wagged his eyebrows.

Your eyes gleamed as your mouth opened and you brought your hands up to your chest in ready acceptance.

“___________, are you sure you don’t want to help me with that project? You know,” Ford glanced inside, “down in the basement?”

Your mouth closed and your brow furrowed. Blocked by his own brother. _Wait a minute_ … Was Ford interested? No way. _Maybe?_ He did dance with you. Made you dinner. Listened to your problems and offered advice… If he was into you, would you… **No.** No, that was silly. Only if Stanley was 100% not into you would anything come of that. But right now, you were more interested in seeing him handle a stick shift in a muscle car than anything.

“I have a feeling you don’t trust me, Ford,” You smiled.

He raised his brows in surprise.

“Don’t worry,” you locked arms with Stan, “I won’t hurt your brother.”

Ford lowered his brows with a smile, “All right, don’t stay out too late, you two.” He turned. “And _____________?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m counting on you.”

You nodded.

“What the fuck is this, prom?” He playfully wrapped his arm around your shoulder as he turned to leave, “Catch you later, pops.”

Ford shook his head as he walked inside, giving you a wave from behind the screen door. He flipped the porch light on in the fading light.

* * *

  
Stan held the car door open for you as you got inside, you felt butterflies on the leather seat. He put his arm across the seat back as he turned to look out the rear window and reverse. “You okay, kid?”

“Hm?” You were observing him shift gears with fascination.

“I’m a salesman, remember? I can read people. Your book ain’t a happy one.” He paused to look at you.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Stan made a contemplative noise. “Got any plans at home?”

“No, why?”

“I’m buying you a drink.”

You gasped, _“Really?”_

“Don’t get excited. I ain’t a sugar daddy, remember? One shitty drink. What do you say?”

“I say… yes,” you grinned as he shifted gears once more.

* * *

The weather was getting cooler as you let your hand dangle out the window to feel the wind. The car moved smoothly through the towering trees in the darkness, headlights leading the way. This was life with Stanley- wild, fun, and free. Just like in a dance he could spin you out and he could bring you home again, to that feeling of safety, to that rock that he was. He was a crude gentleman- a walking contradiction you were eager to wrap your mind and body around. You worried just how eager after a few drinks. Would he like it if you made the first move? Shit. Wasn’t there a rule against dating? _Was this a work thing?_

The door clicked open as you grasped his hand and he hauled you up in one swift move. You held on to him for balance at the overshot. “The diner?” Well, it was the only place for miles.

“We can always keep driving.”

“No I…” you looked down, “I just used to work here. That’s all.”

“I know.”

“You do?”

“Used to come here, late nights.“

_“You remember?”_

“What,” he laughed, “you think I’m senile? How could I forget you in that 50s get-up?”

You loved him in that moment, you really did. You hugged him, burying your nose in his chest, your arms barely reaching each other over his broad back covered in leather. You didn’t notice how still he was, until you felt his warm hand on your upper back. You pulled back to look at him. “I thought you forgot me.”

“You?” He shook his head as he used a thumb to brush your smudged makeup. “Never. Even Bill couldn’t take that one away from me.”

Your eyes grew wide at the name that could take everything from you. **No.** You wouldn’t let that happen. The diner suddenly felt too claustrophobic. “Can we keep driving?”

“Sure, kid. But the next bar’s a town over. Opposite direction from your place.”

“I’ve got no one waiting up for me.” You lived alone in an apartment, above the shops in town. “Unless you count Ford.” You laughed.

He stood for a moment and nodded, opening your door on his way back to the driver’s seat.


	8. Chapter 8

The dive bar was exactly the type you’d expect to find Stan in. A faint biker vibe with faded cardboard cut outs of babes from the eighties. Peeling beer posters and chalkboards near the pool tables. The smell of smoke and old booze lingered in the air. You pulled up a worn stool and sat next to Stan. The bar top was slightly sticky with the remnants of the previous drink.

“This place all right?” He looked to you for approval.

“Fine, Stan,” you smiled. It was sweet that he cared. You wondered exactly how much.

A bartender with a bad neck tattoo finished wiping his glass as he looked up. “Hey, Stan- didn’t expect to see you until Thursday.” His eyes caught yours with a smirk. “And who’s _this_ angel?”

“None of yer business, Rocco.” Stan put an arm on the bar, effectively blocking you from view. “I’ll have this usual.” He turned, “What’re you in the mood for, kid?”

“Do they have any cocktails?”

The bartender snorted. “Only bottles and hard stuff here.”

 _Of course._ “Then, I’ll have what he’s having.”

Whiskey, neat. You clinked glasses and downed it like a shot.

“Easy kid!” Stan laughed. “This ain’t the college stuff, it’ll last you longer.”

Whatever it was, it helped the butterflies in your stomach. “Come here on Thursdays?” You sipped round two that the bartender had so graciously delivered.

“Who? Me?” Stan looked smugly over his glass.

“They know you by name.”

“At least it’s the right name,” he grinned.

“Got a hot date you’ve been hiding from us?”

Stan bit his lip as if to keep himself from saying something stupid. “Side gig, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah?” you playfully caught his gaze, “What is it? Is it legal?”

“Eh. About as legal as Stanco.”

“Now I have to know,” you put your hand on his.

He looked down at your fingers and up at you. He smiled. “I can’t tell if you like danger, or if you are the danger.”

“Me?” You gave him puppy eyes, “Dangerous?”

“Very,” he sipped.

“Tell me,” you urged.

“For a price.”

“What kind?”

He shrugged. “Ladies choice.”

With the boldness of whiskey on your side, you planted a swift kiss on his cheek. “How’s that?”

He rubbed his fingers over the spot, hand covering the smile on his lips. “Not bad, kid. But the next time, stakes’ll be higher.” He surreptitiously looked around the room. “Smuggling.”

“What?” you gasped.

“Keep it down,” he whispered, close enough to feel his breath. “Nothing hard.”

“What the hell would you be smuggling then?”

He ran a hand over the back of his neck in contemplation. “Dogs… Pugs, mainly.”

You snickered. “Why?”

“They’re out on the street across the border. So, I thought, why not give them a home? Some extra walking around money as an added bonus. Hell, better than puppy mills and backyard breeders.”

You laughed softly as the bartender delivered drink number three. “You’re something else, Stan. Illegal activity for a cause. That’s something I could get behind.”

“Really?” He placed his chin in his hand and looked you over. “A goody two shoes like you?”

“I thought I was the danger?”

“Excuse me, Miss Danger.” He grinned. “Tell me- are you into art?”

* * *

“Shh! Quiet!” You both staggered across one well-manicured lawn.

“Is it really a Pollock?”

“That or someone spilled paint on burlap and decided to frame it.”

You laughed as the world spun. Stan placed his hands on your shoulders to steady you, “You sure you want to do this, kid? I don’t want to tarnish yer record or anything.”

 _You can tarnish me all you want, old man._ “You’re going to give it back to the guy it was stolen from, right?”

“For a fee,” he grinned.

You giggled. “And this guy we’re taking it from is a douche?”

“ _Totally._ Picture in the dictionary and everything.”

“I’m fine with it. Just don’t get us caught.”

He used some tools to jam the window open slightly, lifting you and allowing you to squeeze through the crack. “To yer left.”

You lifted the work with ease, a kitchen light flicking on behind you. _Wait- was that a kid with gray hair or a little old man?_ You slid the picture out the window first. You surreptitiously watched the owner move around the kitchen, making a midnight snack. Cautiously, you dangled your toe into Stan’s waiting hands.

“ **Hey!** ” The owner shouted as he spied you, sandwich in hand.

“Come on, kid!” Stan urged, “ _We gotta go!_ ” You slipped out with a gasp, cradled in Stan’s arms as he spun you around and on to the ground. He grabbed the canvas, his other hand grasping yours as you ran, stumbling.

“ _Get back here, Pines!_ ” The owner leaned out the open window.

“ _Suck it, Gideon!_ ” Stan called back as your laughter disappeared into the tree line and the night.

* * *

  
Stan’s eyes were shining as he placed the painting in the trunk. “I never could have done it without you, kid.” His hands were on your cheeks in victory. “I’m so happy, I could kiss you.”

Your blood was pumping, whispering perilous thoughts. “ _Do it_.”

He paused, taken aback, “You… you mean it?”

You nodded, eyes lidded. “Kiss me.”

He smirked, leaning in to capture your lips in his, his tongue tasting your lower lip as you allowed him entry. Whiskey and smoke and him. Your body pressed up against his firm and full, against the car door, breathing him in. Arms around his neck, back, hair; deeper. As you pulled away, the soft look in his eye before you returned to the passenger’s seat was the last thing you remembered. You were a light weight; you must have passed out.

* * *

“Stealing Stanley, really? She’s such a nice girl. I told you to go easy on her or-”

“Or what, she’ll end up like me?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Sure sounds like it.”

 _Sigh._ “Did you even ask if she wanted to stay here for the night?”

“She said it was fine. Look, she wouldn’t give me her home address and I was driving around in circles- what other choice did I have?”

“How much did she drink?”

“Three? Maybe five glasses? She handled it like a champ. She hasn’t puked or anything… Come on, she’ll be fine. Trust me. Just let her sleep it off.”

“How can you be so irresponsible? I don’t know where you get it from.”

“Nobody!" _Laugh._ "Nobody was there for me to get it from. You know that better than anybody.”

“Looks like you’ve had a few as well. Sleep it off and we’ll talk about it in the morning. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

A door closed as the floor creaked under someone walking towards you.

You reached your hands up from under a quilt, grasping like a child. They found their target, a hand in yours which you pulled closer against your face. It was cool against your head, checking your temperature. You hummed at the feeling of warmth spreading through your body. “Love you,” you whispered in contentment with the hand in yours, drifting off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

A creeping blush spread through Ford’s body as you pulled his hand closer and dozed.

He… He couldn’t remember the last time someone had said that to him. _Could you have- Did you mean that?_

He straightened his back as logic reigned over him. _Think._ There were three foreseeable targets for that statement. Option one was him. The second was Stanley. The third was some unknown being present in your unconscious mind. It was unlikely that you were dreaming, your eyes were not in their REM state and you reached out towards the oncoming noise from the floorboard. That ruled out option three. Between him or Stanley, he squeezed your hand briefly, he had a hypothesis. Truly, he’d had it since you started. The way you looked at his brother when he left the room- or when you thought he wasn’t looking- well, it spoke for itself. He’d been trying to piece together the puzzle that was your relationship. How did you know Stanley? What were your feelings towards one another? Ex-lovers was his first inclination. But Stanley would never welcome an ex to work for him, and he certainly wouldn’t pair her with his brother. Acquaintances seemed like an acceptable term. Now for the reason he’d passed you off in the first place. At your first meeting, your unusually anxious demeanor may have indicated that you’d had a crush on Ford. He’d considered that possibility himself. But his observations relayed the contrary.

He knew his brother better than anyone. Flirtation was a usual part of his repartee. Possessive declarations? That had turned Ford’s head. Allowing himself to be vulnerable? That- he could not recall ever seeing in this dimension. Therein lay the crux of the problem. His brother was playing matchmaker because he wanted your feelings to be realized- at the risk of sacrificing his own. He smiled softly and shook his head. Both of you were mistaken. Your love was reciprocal. From the looks of things, you were clumsily circling this conclusion. He laughed. He had to admit to the tightness in his chest. He would keep your secret as you had kept his. Stanley was a lucky guy.

* * *

Stan came out to grab a glass of water, one for him and one for you. But the sight of you two passed out on the couch had him closing his door. _Shit. Shit. Shit._ He held his chest. He’d been so busy falling for you he'd forgotten you might have feelings for his brother. He was in too deep now. The taste of you still lingered on his tongue. What might have been a passing fling for you was… _**Damn**_. He was too old for this shit.

* * *

You woke with the feeling of your head in a vice. You were on a sofa. The light hurt your eyes from a stained-glass window. The blanket over you smelled of Stan’s cologne. Sounds of coffee percolated from the kitchen.

Fuck. You drank too much. So much so that you slept at the Mystery Shack. How did Stan feel about that? _Stan…_ You pulled the blanket over your head. _He kissed you!_ A guilty thrill shot through you. It was everything you’d wanted it to be. Racy and sweet- He really knew how to use his tongue. And those lips…

The quilt was lifted from your head revealing a man in question. You swallowed as he gave you a once over.

“Morning.”

“Morning,” you grinned.

“Thought you could use some coffee.”

You sat up to accept your gift, still wearing last night’s clothes. “Thanks.”

“Left some water on the table for you; but you were out cold.”

“Yeah,” your stomach flipped as your brain struggled to gather loose ends.

“Did you, erm,” he looked away, then back at you, “did you at least have some fun?”

Your eyes shone as you smiled up at him, “I did. Thank you.”

He gave a surprised, almost shy, look before smiling back.

Ford popped his head around the corner. “Who wants French toast?”

* * *

You were surprised at how detached Stan was from you for the rest of the day. Typical boss mode. You thought maybe he’d grab you in the break room and sneak a kiss or pinch your ass when you were stocking shelves. Okay, you dreamed. _What was it?_ Did he not like last night? Was he drunk too? Did he not want to kiss you? Or maybe he didn’t want anything serious? These thoughts clouded your brain until quitting time when you counted out the register and left for the bus stop. Your car was still in the shop and you weren’t going to ask Stan for a ride if things were this awkward. As you traveled over the gravel driveway in contemplation, you heard your name. You turned to see Ford motioning for you.

* * *

“Hey, Soos, you haven’t seen _____________, have you?” Stan spent the day thinking. He wanted you. Wanted you more than anything in his miserable life. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that. But he now realized- he had no idea how you felt. Not about him, or his brother. Now that your shift was over, he felt like he could approach you say something. Anything to sort things out and get this weight off his chest.

“I dunno, dude.” Soos looked up from sweeping. “Isn’t her shift over?”

“She doesn’t have her car, Soos. What is she, walking?”

“Hmm,” Soos rested his chin on the broom handle. “What if Ford drove her? Like, what if they have this crazy relationship outside of work where they go on awesome adventures together?”

Stan pinched his brow. “Soos…”

“See?” Soos pointed out the window to the backyard. “There they are now, planning how to save the world! Man, I love those guys.”

Stan threw his hands up in frustration. _“Why is she always with my fucking brother_?!”


	10. Chapter 10

Ford spoke to you about returning to the site of the statue for further investigations. He’d recently acquired some ancient scripts from gorgons that could help him understand the stone nature. Your stomach was already flipping when you spied Stan sitting on the porch couch, waiting with his arms and legs crossed. _Shit._ No way to quietly bow out of this one. Well, you guessed it was time for a talk.

You walked back over and awkwardly took a seat beside him. “Something on your mind?”

“Lots of things. Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He looked away and ran a hand over his stubble before returning his gaze to you. “Are you stringing me along?”

“What?” You gasped.

“And here I thought we had a nice evening. But every time I turn around, I see you with my brother. You wouldn’t be using me to make him jealous, now- _would you?_ ”

“Stan, nothing’s going on. I promise.”

“And as I recall, I made a promise to you. A promise I don’t take lightly.” His lips became a thin line. “Don’t lie to me, __________.”

It was hard to breathe. “You think I’m lying?”

“Sometimes you turn pale and clam up, like yer guilty or something.” His brows furrowed. “What’s that about?”

“I,” you ran through options in your mind. None were good. Tell him. The. Truth. “I don’t want you to get hurt. Stan… I don’t want to lose you.”

His face was cold as he stood. “So, I was right.”

 _“No!”_ you cried.

“Then what?” He turned. “Out with it, already. I’m a man. I can take it.” He wasn’t sure that he could.

You shook your head. “Your brother made me promise to- to protect you.”

His eyes grew wide in surprise, then contemplation, before narrowing again. “It’s Bill. Isn’t it?”

Your eyes were wet as you looked down and nodded.

You felt his hand on top of yours as you looked to see him sitting by you with a softer expression on his face. “Is that all?”

 **“Is that all?!”** You panicked, “He could end us, _end everything!”_

Stan laughed. “I ain’t afraid of him.” He wiped a tear from your eye. “I beat his ass once before and I’ll do it again. To be honest, I’d be more afraid if you had a thing for my brother.”

 _“What?”_ You blinked.

“You know,” he smiled, “’cause I’m head over heels for you.”

Your jaw dropped. “You are?”

“Yeah, kid. I am. Any thoughts on the matter?”

You placed one hand on his cheek, sliding to match the other around his neck as you brought yourself in for a kiss that would demonstrate exactly how you felt. “That answer your question?”

“Woah,” he exhaled, “you kiss me like that any longer and I’m gonna need to take you upstairs.”

You gave him a sultry stare in return. “That a threat or a promise?”

He grinned. “Both.” Then paused to pull back. “But first, we gotta pay a wakeup call to my genius brother.”

* * *

He led you by hand into the deep woods where the statue was, almost as if he had a honing beacon on his twin. Beyond worlds, between dimensions, the Pines twins would find one another. Even if it was through stubbornness alone.

Ford looked up from his texts, standing to block the statue. “Stanley!” He then looked to you with question in his eyes.

“It ain’t her fault, Ford.” He answered the unspoken. “I know now.”

“Everything?” Ford squinted.

“Everything.” Stan nodded.

Ford exhaled. “Then, I’m sorry I had to find out before you did.”

“Wait a minute.” Stan raised a brow. “Are we talking about the same thing here?”

Ford looked to you, then back at his brother. “Apparently not.”

“I’m talking about the statue at your back.” Stan pointed as Ford stepped aside. “Come on. We’ve been through this before. We’re the Pines twins- not Pines brother. We beat that asshole because we had one another. Not in spite of one another. And certainly not because we pitied each other.”

Ford’s face went through a series of emotions. “I was trying to protect you, Stanley. We both were.”

“Me?” Stan laughed. “You dingbat. I’ve been protecting you since we popped out of the womb. Remember?”

Ford sighed. “I suppose. But what weapons have you against a being with phenomenal cosmic power that I don't?”

Stan gave a cocky smile as he draped his arm around your shoulder. _“Her.”_


	11. Chapter 11

“ _Her_?” Ford stared into your eyes with a twinge of wonder, as if you were some mystical creature in disguise.

“Yeah, her,” Stan gave you a squeeze. “She was born here. Been in this town long as I have. And, unlike me, she chose to form a good relationship with some of the critters. To understand them.” He looked to you. “Ain’t that right?”

You had grown up in Gravity Falls. Some of your first friends were inhabitants of the woods. You recalled your run-in with the vampire and blushed. You wondered how much Stan was able to surmise. “Heh. Yeah.”

He raised a brow and flashed a brief grin before turning to his brother. “And, unlike your introvert ass, she’ll know who to talk to.”

Ford looked down at his papers, “But, these books have proven a reliable resource to-”

You placed your hand atop of his. “No one’s saying we’re throwing them out the window. We’ll need both knowledge and experience to win this fight.”

Ford looked up as a small smile appeared on his face. “And cunning.” He looked to Stanley. “I hate to admit it, but perhaps we do need your help after all… You’re the only one I know to have bested Bill.”

Stan swiped his nose like a cocky boxer before a fight. “’bout time you asked for my help.”

* * *

Ford had books about gorgons. What he did not know was that one lived in a cave near the coast. One you had tea with as a child. You wondered if she was still there. If she would recognize you.

“Keep your eyes down,” you reminded them, “and, Ford, no examining questions. She wouldn’t like that.”

“Understood.”

“Stan, put away those brass knuckles. This isn’t a fight. She’s an ally… I hope.”

He pocketed the weapon as the sand crunched under your feet.

“We’re here. Kneel.”

“I like it when a woman takes charge,” Stan joked.

“ _Stanley!_ ” Ford corrected under his breath.

“All right. All right… Tough crowd.”

 **“Who dares enter my cave?”** The booming voice echoed.

All three of you cast your gaze downward. “Euryale? It’s me… _____________.” You fought the urge to look up.

“I know no such woman. Go. Return from whence you came.”

“The snake's leaving,” Stan whispered.

“Euryale, wait!” You cried.

Ford took a breath, “χρειαζόμαστε τη βοήθειά σας παρακαλώ.”

The gorgon halted. “You speak the language of my people?”

Ford coughed. “Only what I remember from college.”

“And why do you think I would help you?”

“We have brought an offering,” you held forth your satchel.

You heard her tongue slither. “It smells of jasmine.”

“Do lady snakes like flowers?” Stan spoke by your ear.

You smiled.

“Jasmine tea…” The gorgon purred, shaking the rocks. “You are no longer a human child, how have you grown so?”

“We age quickly, your majesty,” you bowed.

She hummed in contemplation. “I recall that your tea warmed me in the cold. What do you seek?”

“There is a being from another dimension cast in stone. How can we defeat him?”

She paused in thought. “You may attempt to break the stone to dissolve their essence. Be wary that this effort may free them. What form of power does this being have?”

“Possession.”

“False promises.”

“General weirdness.”

“Hmm,” the gorgon pondered. “Take this pebble from the sea,” she placed a smooth rock with a hole in the middle of it in your palm. “It will allow you to see the truth.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” you bowed once more.

“Luck be on your side, human. Come back before you grow much older.” She slinked away. “And bring more tea.”

It was a long while before you breathed and even longer before you felt safe enough to look up again. Stan had pride on his face. Ford looked both sick and excited. Stanley picked you up and spun you in a circle, Ford hugged you close. You held their hands as you walked back to the car. You were either on the path to freedom or ruin, but, at least you were on the path together.

* * *

Ford took various pictures of the statue before he nodded and Stan brought the sledgehammer down, reducing it to rubble. You slammed your boot into the dust, hoping the end to your problems would be that simple. Knowing, deep down, that it wouldn’t be.

* * *

It was a last supper of sorts. You didn’t know if it was a celebration or not. You and Stan imbibed in some whiskey. Ford barely touched his glass of wine. He had cooked everyone’s favorite meal, in some amalgamation of a feast. You’d brought the dessert.

Stan gave you a kiss for the toffee peanuts, “Thanks, sugar.”

When you handed Ford jelly beans, he teared up in slow acceptance. “How did you know these were my favorite?”

“I listen. It’s kind of a problem of mine,” you joked.

He placed a hand on your shoulder. “Thank you, ____________. You’re really something. If you ever rethink your position on Stanley…”

“Hey!” Stan puffed, “Not happening! Not now, not ever. Right, __________? Back me up here.”

“Well…” you mocked contemplation as you tapped your chin.

“Oh, come on!” Stan crossed his arms. 

Ford laughed.

You snickered as you tussled your new boyfriend’s hair. “Not now, not ever.”

He paused under your touch, then grinned in understanding, sweeping you onto his lap.

In the warmth of the shack, nestled between the twins, you’d felt the safest you had in your entire life. You needed that safety in the face of the uncertainty of the night. You had all decided it best for you to stay there for the week. Bill may have dissolved with the rubble, or he may have been freed. Constant vigilance was necessary. You needed to watch each other’s backs. And, for now, you didn’t mind one bit.


	12. Chapter 12

As the night winded down, the three of you settled on the small couch near the TV. You decided on the _Ducktective_ marathon. With the lights low and the fire burning, your eyes closed with an easy peace.

You woke up to Ford sleeping on one shoulder and Stanley tapping on the other.

“St-” you began as he put a finger up to your mouth. He inclined his head towards the hallway.

You nodded, gently shifting Ford onto a pillow and tucking in your side of the blanket.

Your stomach fluttered as you met Stan by the stairs.

“Crazy day, huh?” His voice was hushed.

“You could say that,” you smiled.

“Listen,” he brushed a hand anxiously through his hair, “since things might get messy real soon, I just wanted to…”

“To?” You blinked up at him.

“To show you what you mean to me. To make you my girl.”

You held his hand, whispering, “I’m already your girl.”

He grinned. “I don’t think you understand.” He placed a hand over your shoulder, onto the railing, effectively backing you up against the stairs. Still, his body was not touching yours: Giving you an out. “I’ve been wanting to taste you ever since I saw you in that waitress outfit at the diner.”

You swallowed. “Go on.”

His fingers ghosted up and down your arm. “I had to take myself in hand when you told me I should punish you. Is that what you want, ____________? You want me to spank that sweet ass of yers? Hm?” His finger on your chin tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “Want me to tell you what a good girl you are as you suck my cock?”

You brought your lips up to his: kissing, licking, biting, sucking. Eliciting a rumble from his chest.

“You’re one dirty old man, aren’t you?”

“Only for you, sugar. I’ll be as dirty as you want.” He kissed up your neck, breathing on your ear. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A dirty old man to fuck yer sweet young cunt?”

“I want it, _oh_ , Stan…”

“That’s my girl,” he kissed the flesh above your low-cut shirt. “You want to go to my room, or you want me to take you right here?”

The blood raced in your veins. “But, your brother…”

“Out like a light. He won’t bother us. Unless, that is, you don’t think you can keep quiet fer me.” He grinned. “I can see it in your eyes. You like a little danger, don’t you? The thrill,” he thumbed your breast, circling your nipple over your shirt and bra, “of almost getting caught?”

Your breath came quicker.

“That’s why you like me, isn’t it?” He got on his knees on the hallway rug, like some eager teen, looking for approval as he brought his mouth up to your jeans zipper and drew it down, his hands on the lip of your pants as you shimmed them down to your knees. Good thing you had acceptable underwear. “Hot damn yer beautiful,” he looked up at you adoringly, “the most beautiful girl I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Stan,” you blushed.

“I mean it. I made you a promise, __________- I’d never lie to you. Fuck,” His index finger traced over the fabric. His expression was full of awe. “Yer so wet fer me already…”

“I…” you bit your lip, “I’ve been wanting this for a long time.”

“How long, doll?” His thumb circled your clothed clit as his other hand cupped your ass. “Hm? How long have you wanted to ride my cock?”

“Since the diner,” you hissed. His hands felt so good.

“That so?” He looked up at you with smug satisfaction, “We’ve got so much in common. You ever touch yerself to me, sugar?”

“Please, Stan, _don’t stop_ …”

“I’ll keep going when you answer.”

“I… _Yes!_ Yes, okay? Plenty of times.”

“That’s my good girl.” He kissed the inside of your thighs, tongue trailing along the seam of your panties at the juncture of your leg. “Tell me. Was my mouth hot on yer cunt in yer dreams?”

You nodded frantically.

His hands brushed your hips, pulling your panties down to meet the top of your jeans, exposing you.

He moaned softly, “Yer pussy looks so sweet. Is it all for me?”

“Just for you, Stan.”

He brushed your slit with his thumb, sending electric up your spine. “Can I taste it?”

You nodded as his broad tongue slipped between your folds, his nose nudging your clit. You covered your mouth to keep from making any noise.

“Mm,” he sucked lightly on your clit and your knees buckled. His hand on your ass held you up. “You taste so good.” He trailed your sex with his tongue. “Think you can take my fingers, baby?”

You nodded, grasping the railing behind you as your head rolled back and he really went to work. You were finding it harder to breathe and your legs were shaking as one, then two, of his thick fingers entered you, beckoning your g-spot. You’d almost cried out when he sucked an even pressure on your clit leading the world to fall into splotches of color as you came on his mouth. Aftershocks sputtered through your system. As your breathing returned to normal, you noticed your hips were supported by Stan’s hands, his mouth still kissing up your sex. He gently lowered you to stand on your own. He stood up and wiped his mouth on his sleeve as you tugged up your underwear and pants.

“That was,” you kissed him, “amazing, thank you. You’re really good at that.”

He gave a cocky grin. “All for you, toots.”

“And, um. Would you like me to…?” you trailed your hand over the bulge in his trousers. He was packing. You wondered exactly how thick it would feel in your hand.

He brought your fingers up to his lips. “You may have been able to keep quiet, but me… That’s a whole different story.”

You blushed in acknowledgement.

His thumb brushed your cheek. “Hey. We’ve got all the time in the world, right?”

You smiled back. “All the time in the world.”

“I’m gonna… Go take a shower.” He thumbed up the stairs, shyly.

You kissed him on the cheek. “Tell me about it later.”

He brought your lips to his. “You can count on it.”

You watched him climb the stairs in a daze. That sweet ass. Those arms that held you up. _Water,_ you slapped your cheeks. _You needed water_.


	13. Chapter 13

You turned off the kitchen faucet, staring at the moonlight over the trees as you brought the glass to you lips. The night seemed to glow. You felt hands trailing down your back as you shivered. “That was quick,” you hummed. Broad hands pushed your hair aside, a kiss placed on the back of your neck. You turned to give Stan a warm welcome when your eyes grew wide. _“Ford!”_

His hand continued to comb slowly through your hair. “You seemed to like it, when you thought I was him.” He looked to you sadly. “Why did it have to be Stanley?”

“Listen, Ford, you’re perfect as you are- any girl would be lucky to have you- I just love Stan in a different way.” You surreptitiously reached for the pebble in your pocket.

His fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back to look at that yellow moon. You clutched on to his sweater to keep from falling. _“I could love you in a different way, too…”_ His voice whispered near your ear.

The kitchen lights switched on. “What the hell?” Stan grumbled in a robe; his hair still wet.

Ford let go, blinked a couple of times, then snapped his fingers. “I just remembered the equation!” He exited the room with a smile on his lips and song in his step.

You held a hand to your heart, willing it to slow down.

“What the fuck was that?” Stan placed a reassuring hand on your back.

“I think Bill’s possessing people… I tried to be sure by looking through the pebble, but he pulled my head back.”

“Bill? Already?” Stan’s face was grim. “Look. Even if we didn’t have that rock,” he pointed to his eye, “the pupils look kinda cat-like under possession.”

“That’s the problem,” you shuddered, “his eyes looked normal.”

“…What?” Stan stood taller.

“I don’t even know if it’s you right now- _you can’t be sure that it’s me!_ ” You looked up, “Stan earlier when we…”

He brought up your hand with the pebble, allowing you to look through. “All me,” he gave a half grin. “Hope yer satisfied.”

You looked back at him through the hole, so he could see the truth. “More than satisfied.” You placed the rock back in your pocket and grasped his hand. “What do we do now?”

Stan roughed a hand over his chin. “Fuck! Why did he have to possess the one who knew him best?”

“He… Still doesn’t know that we’re on to him. Maybe I can get him to reveal something?”

“You’d have to give him a bribe or something.”

“What did Bill like?”

“Pain? Weirdness? Freedom? Power? …Deals?”

You bit your lip as your stomach plummeted. “Fuck. Do we have to make a deal?”

* * *

It was the middle of the night. Stan decided you would sleep in shifts. There was no escaping the shack tonight, no further prepping possible, so you needed to go with what was on hand: The junk around you and your wits. You’d kept a protective amulet from your witch friend in your car for safe driving. You stashed it in your pocket, not knowing if it would be any help. You stared down at your Swiss army knife in the glove compartment. Just in case.

* * *

You moved slowly down the basement steps; the pebble hidden in your hand. You heard papers rustling. You peered around the corner, raising the stone up to your eye as you looked at Ford’s back. His profile. Normal- No Bill. You tucked the pebble up your sleeve.

_No Bill… Did that just mean that Ford had really…_

“Ford?” You gulped.

He turned, “Ah. ___________. Back to being my assistant?” He smiled.

No. There’s no way Ford would just gloss over that. _Would he?_ “Um. Did you mean what you just said?”

He twirled his pen. “You mean the equation? I did.” He nodded. “Come see.”

“Ford,” you stood beside his chair as he looked up. “Either Bill was inside your head a few moments ago or you’ve got some kinky issues to work out.” Blunt was better and you needed to know.

“…Kinky?” His whole face grew red. “__________, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Did you just tug on my hair and kiss my neck?”

He shook his head, “No! I would never!”

You closed your eyes and let out a breath. “Bill’s here. He just possessed you. We need some science or magic to banish him to another dimension.”

“I… I see.” Ford placed both his hands on his thighs. “I’m sorry. He’s at a point where I can’t remember him taking over my body. He must be between dimensions now. We need to push him over the edge.”

“Isn’t he a dream demon? Weren’t you asleep?”

The chair wheeled back as Ford stood, “We need to warn Stanley.”

_“We’ll meet again, I know where, I know when…”_

Heavy footsteps came down the steps as Ford moved in front of you, hand resting on some sort of gun.

“Hello, Sixer.” _Stan- Bill- Still?_ Looked over a glass of bourbon. He downed it like a shot and threw it against the wall. “And hello, Minx. Nice to meet you. Although,” he licked two fingers, “it feels like we’ve been intimately acquainted.”

You lunged forward, ready to pounce, “That wasn’t you and you know it!” Ford held you back.

“Oh, Minx. Minx. Minx. The Pines' are mine. You belong to one of them, you belong to me.”

Ford fired his weapon. Bill dodged. You screamed.

Ford cocked again. “Don’t worry, it’s programmed for containment only.” He aimed.

“Ow,” Stan rubbed under his glasses. “My fucking head… Do you have a quiet setting on that thing or what?”

“Stan!” You ran past Ford.

“___________!" Ford poised his weapon. "Wait." 

“ **Psych!** ” Bill wrapped Stan’s arm around your neck, leaving you to claw at his strength. “Man, humans are so gullible when they’re in love. It’s hilarious!”

“Let her go.”

 _“Ooh!_ She has presents in her pockets.” Bill riffled through one, withdrawing the knife.

Ford’s eyes grew wide.

“Wow,” Bill hummed as he slid the pieces out, “So many options! But, I know how you’d like to get screwed.” He held the corkscrew to your cheek. You swatted the weapon from his hand. “Aw, no fair. What else do we have- **AH!** ” Stan withdrew after touching the amulet in your pocket.

“ _Run!_ ” Ford shouted, firing on his brother.

You scrambled up the steps, hundred of thoughts flighting through you. You could contain him, but could you destroy him? You needed help. Who could help? Someone, someone ancient in the forest might know.

You exited the back door as sounds of the twins scrapping entered the kitchen.

“Oh, _Miiinx_!”

You made a break for the tree line. Who could help you now? You held the pebble to your eye. No one. Not a soul. You wiped some tears, determined to look again.

You looked down. A path… A path that glowed blue. You ran, one foot in front of the other, over downed logs and thorns, past skittering creatures.

_The water…_

“There you are,” Bill, as Stan, batted the stone from your hand when you turned.

“No!” You cried, reaching for it as it disappeared into the current.

Bill laughed, “That’s it? That’s all you got? Some stupid rock? You’re almost as dumb as Fez, here.”

"I sure as hell hope so," you wadded in, up to your knees, seeking the slippery moss for your item. "Because he beat your ass last time."

He dunked your head under, " _Beat_ is such a strong word."

You rolled, swiping your leg to bring him down behind you.

“Ah! Old people hips!” He growled, splashing closer.

Your fingers searched the creek bed in desperation. There. You brought up the item, in front of his face.

_A salamander…_

You blinked at your own hands in confusion. It had felt like a rock.

His scowl turned to fear. _**“Axolotl!”**_ He gasped.

The salamander’s eyes glowed as a whirring sound, like white noise, rushed your ears.

“No!” Bill crab walked backwards, “I don’t want to go there, you can’t make me… Please… _I just wanted to have some fun_ …” He brought a hand up in front of his face. “ **Nooo!** ” The noise faded. The crickets returned. And Stan dropped his hand, collapsing onto the shore.


	14. Chapter 14

“Stan,” you shook his limp body. You were numb to the cold water. “Stan! Are you all right?”

His eyes opened as you moved backwards, uncertain if the salamander (axolotl?) was just a ploy.

“Why the hell am I wet in the woods?” he looked around, “And why do my hips hurt?” His eyes landed on you. “__________,” he reached out, noticing you flinch. He withdrew. “It was Bill wasn’t it? I dreamt I was tying the bastard up.”

You looked down. “I’m afraid it may have been your brother you tied up.”

“I see.” He was silent. “You still think I’m Bill, don’t you?”

You met his eyes, wary. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

He observed you, “Looks like you lost yer stone.” He paused, then looked away. “What if you never know? Maybe it’s best… safest… if you leave.”

You were frozen. “Stan…”

“Get out of here.” He stood up and brushed off. Cold. “Go home.”

“What?”

“’s fine,” his expression hardened, “I’m used to it. Yer better off without me.”

“That’s it?” You breathed, “It’s that easy?”

He stood, back to you; stoic.

“Well, it wouldn’t be that easy for me!”

He turned, somehow surprised by the tears in your eyes. “No, c’mon ___________, don’t cry.” A knelt and rubbed your eyes roughly. “I hate the waterworks.”

“I can’t help it, you jerk! I just fought for your ass because I love you! I’m not going to leave you behind!”

His hands were warm on your shoulders. “…What?”

You realized you’d never said it to him before. “Nevermind.”

“Must’ve been mistaken" his tone lightened, "my jerk ears couldn’t hear you.”

“I said… I love you.”

He tugged you in, holding you close to his chest so you couldn’t see his face. You listened to his racing heart. “One more time."

"I love you, Stan."

"Yeah.” You could feel his hand tremble sightly. “I love you, too.”

When you pulled back to see the shy smile on his face, you knew it was him. Then, you noticed a creature on his shoulder. “The axolotol!”

“Huh?” Stan looked down, “Wait- Is that thing throwing up on me?”

The salamander coughed up your treasure from the gorgon, blinking at you, one eye at a time.

“Thank you,” you bowed in reverence.

“Er… You realize yer bowing to a lizard, right?”

“Kneel, Stanley! Kneel!” You brought his head down.

_“Okay, okay!”_

* * *

As you both walked into the kitchen, you saw Ford frozen on the floor.

“Ford!” You ran over.

“I’m all right. He used my own ray against me. It should wear off soon.” All that could move was his head, which looked to his brother. “Stanley, are you… yourself? Is he gone?”

“We’re fine,” Stan brought the pebble to his eye, “see for yerself.”

“Oh, thank science.” Ford closed his eyes, head drooping onto the kitchen floor.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon.

“I think it’s about time we got some shut eye.”

You looked to Stan. “Isn’t the Shack supposed to open soon?”

He rubbed his stubble. “Eh. I think we could all use a day off. What do you say?”

You nodded your heads in agreement.

After setting Ford up in his room, you climbed the steps with Stanley.

“Do we still get paid?” You joked.

“I think we can figure an arrangement.”

“So… not in cash?”

“No.” His face was smug.

“Stingy,” you teased.

He surprised you, pulling you in for a kiss. “Not where it counts.”

You blushed and couldn’t disagree.

* * *

It was probably noon when you awoke to the sunlight filtering through the window. Stan was breathing softly, his gold chain still on his neck as he slept in a white tank and boxers. The room smelled of him: sweet tobacco, whiskey, and aftershave, or some cologne. Something vintage that seemed to be made for him. You wore one of his tanks and your underwear, snuggling up beside him, your head in the crook of his neck. You felt as warm as the sunshine that played at your feet over the comforter. Your hands searched his barrel chest, his biceps, his boxer’s hands. You wanted to memorize every part of him. But there was still one part of him you hadn’t seen, and hell… you were curious. Your fingers raked through his chest hair, traveling over his medallion, his sternum, his stomach. When he caught your wrist, you gasped in surprise. When you looked up, you saw his cocky smile. “Looking for something?”

“I… Um…”

“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of an old man in his sleep,” his voice was rough with sleep, “now, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“That’s a shame,” he kicked off the comforter, revealing his straining boxers, “because I’ve been wanting you to touch my cock.”

You swallowed.

He pulled up the covers. “But, if you don’t want-”

“I want it!”

He observed you and his grin returned. “Eager, are we?”

“Well… maybe.”

He kissed you. “Doesn’t sound like yer eager enough. Looks like a demonstration is in order. Sit up and watch like a good girl.”

You did as you were told, thanking whatever lucky star. He thumbed around his waistband, pulling it over the head of his hard dick, nearly reaching his belly button. You were practically salivating. You leaned forward to touch.

“Stay,” he commanded. You froze. “Watch.” You watched. He spit in his hand, coating his dick as he pumped once, twice. His boxers peeled further down, showing you the length and girth. You whined. His eyes were smoldering on you. “Looks like you want to say something.”

“I want your cock.”

“You do, huh?” He gave it a lazy tug as his breath grew more labored. “Where do you want it?”

“In my mouth, in my pussy, wherever you want it.”

“Mm. Show me how much you want it.”

“How?”

“Beg fer it.”

“Please,” you licked your lips. “Please Stan, I want your cock inside me so bad.”

“Show me,” he nodded, “with yer fingers.”

You pulled down your panties and put two fingers in your mouth to wet them, bringing them down to play with your clit before slipping one inside. You briefly paused to take off your shirt and tease your chest, showing him exactly how you liked it.

“Yer tits are perfect,” he groaned at the sight, “and yer pussy’s so tight. Think you can fit me, beautiful?”

“Yes. I know I can. Please, I want it.”

“It’s all yers, sugar. Come and get it.”

You crawled over, kissing him deeply before straddling his lap. He tore open a condom from his nightstand, rolling it over his cock in one fluid motion. You positioned him at your entrance, lowering yourself slowly. His eyes were watching yours, his mouth briefly cursing as you took him in. You felt him throb within you.

“That’s it,” he kissed your neck as you rocked on top of him, “that’s my girl. Feels so good… So good.”

You sighed when his rough thumbs traveled over your nipples, replaced by this tongue. “ _Ah,_ Stan!”

His noise of approval reverberated in your chest and he sucked on you, your hips bucking. He kissed you, picking you up and flipping you so that you were on your back. His body and weight pressed into your clit with every thrust. Your legs wrapped around his hips, body moving up to meet him. You looked up to see him looking down at you, heart open and more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him in your time together. The sight took your breath away.

After a while, he rolled so you could ride him and resumed playing with your chest. “It’s hard not to bust in this hot pussy of yers, God! I fucking love you. Yer mine. I’m never gonna let you go.”

“I love you,” you kissed his head. “Don’t stop. Don’t let me go.”

“Who do you fucking love?” He ground into you, sparking signs of your orgasm. You bit your lip. He circled your nipple, toying with your breasts. “Who do you belong to?" His breath came in hot bursts against your skin. "I can feel you want to cum. Feel your tight cunt clenching. You better cum,” he thrust, “with my name on your lips.” 

“Ah! Stan!” You moaned, “ _Stanley!_ ” Your body shook, pulling him in and against you in wave after wave of pleasure.

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Ah. Fuck… Fuck, I’m gonna cum, __________.” His voice wavered, “I’m gonna cum. _Can I cum?_ Can I cum inside you?”

“Oh, cum for me, Stan.”

He swiftly laid you on your back, finishing after a few pumps. Watching the abandon on his face and hearing his rumbling moan made you wet all over again. He caught his breath, giving you a smile and kiss before laying down beside you. You felt your body buzzing in the afterglow. You closed your eyes as you curled against him.

“Yer perfect. You know that?”

“Hah. Not really.”

“I don’t know what a schmuck like me did to deserve you, but I’m glad I did it.”

“You exist, Stanley.” You held his hand. “You exist.”


	15. Chapter 15

_**Several Months Later** _

“Hey, Sue, table for five.”

“Hmm, I don’t know if I should give it to you Stan.” She tucked the pen behind her ear, “After all, you stole my best employee.”

“A great return on investment, by the way,” he wagged his brows.

She rolled her eye. “You’re a lucky guy, you know that? You’d better not hurt her, or I’ll give you cold coffee forever.”

 _“Me?!”_ He brought a hand to his chest in accusation. “I’m the one that constantly worries she’ll dump my old ass.”

“Then, don’t do anything to deserve it.” She smiled. “This way,” she led to a cozy corner booth were the kids were already waiting.

 _“Grunkle Stan!”_ A teenaged Mabel wrapped her sweatered arms around him. “I missed you so much!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he tussled her hair. “Me too, kid… Dipper,” he grinned, “looking grown up.”

“Not too grown up to hug you,” he held out his hands and leaned in.

At first Stan was surprised, then patted him on the back.

“Where’s Uncle Ford?” The boy asked.

“He should be along any minute... He, er, forgot his wallet.” Truthfully, he was ransacking his drawers, and possibly other dimensions, searching for the sweater Mabel had gifted him.

“So,” Mabel took a seat, smooshing Dipper into the corner. “What’s the reason for today?”

“What? Can’t I take out my two-“

 _“Up! Bup!”_ Mabel raised her finger, “The real reason.”

“Hm,” Stan ran a hand over his face, “you got me. There’s… someone I’d like you to meet.”

“A girl someone?”

“Yeah. A dame.”

“Old people romance.” Dipper looked out the window. “Good for you Uncle Stan, but, count me out until Ford gets here to talk about research.”

Stan smirked, “You’d be surprised.”

“So, how’d you meet?” Mabel put her cheeks in her hands.

“Well… Right here, actually.”

She squealed. “Tell me everything!”

“Sorry I’m late!” Ford jogged up to the table.

“Aww… My sweater,” Mabel appraised. “Ford, you old softy, you.”

“Uncle Ford! I have so many questions about wormholes,” Dipper interrupted. “Do you know anything that would…”

* * *

The familiar diner door chimed as you entered. You straightened your favorite outfit. _Was it too flattering to make a good impression?_ No, you assured yourself, you looked fine.

“__________!” Susan wrapped you in a warm hug. She pulled back, hands still on your arms. “You wouldn’t be looking for your old job back, now, would you?”

“No, sorry Suzy,” you smiled. “But I am looking forward to a slice of that famous apple pie.”

“I saved the best piece for you. Come on,” she nodded, “let me take you to your beau.”

In the months you’d spent at the shack, you’d gained not one best friend, but two. Ford was there to offer intelligent conversation, dorky games, and tips on cooking, Stan was there to give all he had to offer and more. You’d met Mister Tummy and spent more nights laughing than you could remember. The dates and nights with Stan got your blood pumping. Even after the stupid fights, Stand made sure you woke up with a smile on your face. You were in love, and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

* * *

Dipper looked up from the middle of his writing.

“Something caught yer eye?” Stan grinned.

“I, uh… No. Not at all.”

“She’s cute, isn’t she?”

“Grunkle Stan!” Dipper flustered.

“I oughta know.” He stood and straightened his jacket, “She’s my girl.”

“That…” Dipper looked to you and back. “ _What? **You mean she’s not ninety**_?! _”_

“Kid,” Stan gave an affronted glare, “I ain’t ninety. I ain't eighty. Do you even know how old I am?” He held out his hand to seat you between him and Ford. 

“ **Omahgod,** she’s beautiful!” Mabel crooned. “Hi, I’m Mabel, high school senior and future fashionista! This is my less fashionable bro with a heart of gold.”

“Dipper, I know.”

“Hi,” he blushed and shook your hand. “Never mind all that heart of gold stuff.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” you greeted them, “the boys have told me so much about you.”

“Boys?” Dippers brows furrowed in disconnect. _“Them?!”_

“Girl,” Mabel placed her hands atop of yours, “I only have one question.”

“Lay it on me.”

“Can I be in the bridal party? I’ll be good. _Pretty please?”_

Your eyes grew wide.

 **“Mabel!”** Stan sputtered, “I didn’t get to the part where-” he paused and looked to you. “I mean, not that I was going to-”

“Stan,” you smiled. You saw him surreptitiously checking out rings when you passed the jewelry store. Or what he thought was surreptitiously.

“Stanley,” Ford remarked, “I wasn’t a part of your first wedding. As far as I'm concerned it doesn't count. I’d like to at least be involved in this one. I’m certain __________ would approve.”

“Ford,” he turned, “not you too!”

Mabel laughed and began reciting the most romantic venues in Oregon. Stan’s face grew pale as dollar signs flew in front of his eyes.

“There’s no escaping this, is there?” You looked to Dipper in an aside.

“Afraid not,” he grinned. “Welcome to the family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me and writing such awesome comments! More about the Pines twins, https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984332/chapters/65867296, if you have any preferences let me know!


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